


Muddling Through

by spilled_notes



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU continuation of Brave New World, blissfully ignoring canon from that point on.  Serena comes to a decision - only it's not the same one as Bernie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‘No,’ Serena says quietly.

‘What?’ Bernie freezes, wine glass millimetres from her lips.

‘No,’ she repeats more firmly, setting her own glass down on the desk. ‘I don’t think I want to forget that it ever happened.’

Bernie watches apprehensively as Serena stands, comes to lean on the desk beside her chair.

‘I certainly don’t think I _can_ forget it,’ she continues. ‘In fact I know that I can’t. It’s all I’ve been able to think about,’ she adds with a nervous laugh. ‘And not because I think it was a mistake.’

Bernie bites her lip. Her eyes are fixed on Serena’s, and she can’t tear them away.

‘But I’ve terrified you,’ she says hesitantly. ‘And I’ve ruined what we had, our friendship.’

‘You haven’t ruined anything.’

She takes Bernie’s glass, steals a sip before putting it down out of harm’s way. Bernie’s empty fingers twist together, resisting the urge to reach for her.

‘And being scared isn’t the same as not wanting something.’

Serena reaches to tuck Bernie’s hair behind her ear, hand lingering almost on her cheek. Her heart is racing; she can see Bernie’s pulse jumping too, and oddly it makes her feel calmer.

‘Besides it’s not you I’m terrified of. It’s what I’m feeling,’ she admits.

‘Serena, I-’ Bernie stops, swallows hard. Looks away.

Serena hesitates then moves her hand away, grips the edge of the desk for a moment before starting to push herself upright.

Bernie’s hand on hers stops her, brings their eyes back together.

‘It’s not that I don’t want it. You. Us,’ she stumbles. ‘I just-’

She gazes up at her, frowning. Serena waits, forcing herself to be patient. Praying they won’t be interrupted.

‘I don’t want to lose my friend,’ she says quietly. ‘If you change your mind. If I make a mess of things. If working together and being together is too much.’

‘Believe me, I know all the arguments against workplace relationships,’ Serena smiles. ‘Never thought I’d break one of my own rules. Still, I am a rebel, aren’t I?’

When that fails to raise a smile she sighs, turns her hand so she can tangle their fingers. Fingers she realises she’s been watching and thinking about for far too long.

‘And we’re both equally capable of making a mess of any relationship. As for changing my mind.’ She shakes her head. ‘I can’t promise I won’t. No one can, that would be naïve.’

Bernie looks away, tries to take back her hand but Serena’s grip tightens.

‘That kiss wasn’t when it started,’ she says carefully, watching Bernie closely.

‘No?’

Serena shakes her head. ‘More of a light-bulb moment. I’ve been thinking about you for longer than I’d care to admit. And suddenly I realised why.’

‘Oh,’ Bernie breathes.

‘Yes.’

Bernie bites her lip again, gaze falling to their hands.

‘So what now?’

‘How would you usually go about wooing a lady? Other than in theatre, that is.’

‘Um, drinks? Dinner?’

‘Sounds lovely. Tomorrow?’

‘Are you sure?’ Bernie asks, frowning.

‘I’m a grown woman, Ms. Wolfe. I know my own mind.’

‘Yes, yes of course. It’s just-’

‘Oh hush, woman,’ Serena cuts her off fondly. ‘It’s just dinner. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, hm?’

‘Just dinner,’ Bernie repeats, nodding.

‘Well, and maybe a goodnight kiss.’

Serena smiles – not the nervous smile of earlier but properly, eyes sparkling – and Bernie can’t help returning it.

‘I could provide one of those tonight,’ Bernie offers, trying to steady her breathing.

‘Could you now?’ Serena teases. ‘And after you were so adamant to put it behind us as well.’

‘We all make mistakes.’

‘I’ll remember you saying that,’ Serena murmurs as Bernie stands and moves closer.

‘Not if I give you something better to remember,’ she replies. She raises a cautious hand to Serena’s hair and leans closer, gaze flicking between her eyes and lips, hesitating.

‘Just come here, would you?’

‘Yes ma’am,’ Bernie smiles.

This time it’s not hurried and frantic but soft, tender. And it’s everything Serena had imagined it would be – everything, and _more_.

‘I won’t be forgetting that in a hurry,’ she breathes when she can speak again, and Bernie grins.

‘No need to look so smug,’ Serena chides.

‘Oh, you haven’t seen smug yet.’

Serena shivers at the intent in her suddenly low voice. ‘Is that a promise?’ she manages.

Bernie just smirks. Serena is about to give in to the temptation to kiss it from her lips when there’s a tap on the door.

They don’t spring away from each other like they did in theatre, when Bernie’s pager beeped. Bernie smooths Serena’s hair into place; Serena gently wipes the smudge of her lipstick from Bernie’s lips; they share a smile, a last brush of hands.

Bernie sits back down, watches as Serena opens the door and speaks to Raf. Hopes it’s nothing that’s going to keep them from finishing their wine and heading home at a reasonable hour. Heading home so she can assess her limited wardrobe and find somewhere suitable to take Serena Campbell for dinner.

Bernie stifles a groan and buries her face in her hands.

‘You alright?’ Serena asks, closing the door and heading back to her chair.

‘Yes, yes.’

‘Bernie?’ she presses, eyebrows raised.

Bernie sighs. ‘I’ve just realised I have a date to plan.’

‘It’s only me, darling,’ Serena smiles. ‘You could take me for fish and chips and I’d be happy.’

‘There’s nothing ‘only’ about you,’ Bernie mutters, swallowing a large gulp of wine.

Serena’s smile fades a little, her face tightening, and fixes her eyes on her computer screen. ‘If you don’t want to that’s fine. Maybe the dreaded red phone will save you,’ she quips, but there’s no humour in her voice.

‘Oh no, Serena, that’s not-’ Bernie jumps up and hurries to sit in the visitor’s chair beside her. ‘I just want to get this right,’ she says, gently touching Serena’s arm.

‘And I just want to spend some time with you outside this madhouse.’

Their eyes meet and hold, just like in theatre. Serena places a hand over Bernie’s.

‘You’re overthinking this. I can practically hear the cogs turning. Anywhere but Albie’s will be perfect. Even Albie’s would be perfect, to be honest,’ she adds. ‘If we weren’t guaranteed to be interrupted within five seconds of sitting down.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie says eventually. ‘I’m just not very good at this.’

‘We’ll muddle through together,’ Serena smiles, squeezing her hand.

Bernie smiles in return. ‘I like the sound of that.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the ridiculous delay - I wanted to be sure I knew where this was going before I posted any more!

In the end the dreaded red phone does indeed save her – not that it feels like being saved. It’s been an odd day, both of them fizzing with nerves and excitement, infecting the whole ward. And now, as they move patients up to Keller in readiness, Bernie can feel Serena’s eyes on her, can feel the tension radiating from her across the room. When there’s nothing left to do but wait, Bernie approaches her.

‘A word?’ she asks, head tilting towards their office.

She opens the door for her, closes it against the noise of the ward. When she turns Serena still has her back to her, staring at the desk.

‘Serena?’ Bernie puts a tentative hand on her tense shoulder.

‘Narrow escape there,’ she says tightly.

Bernie curses herself, searches for the right words but can’t find them. She gently turns Serena to face her.

‘There’s always tomorrow,’ she says with a soft smile. ‘At least we still get to spend the evening together.’

Silence.

‘Serena, please look at me.’

Finally she raises her eyes.

‘Not an escape,’ Bernie says firmly. ‘Or a relief.’ She touches Serena’s cheek, drops the professional mask and lets her disappointment show. ‘I’m nervous, Serena, not unwilling.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Serena says, catching Bernie’s hand and rubbing her knuckles. ‘I’m not very good at this either.’

‘Well, we can be not very good at it together, hm?’

‘Yes,’ she replies with a small smile, letting Bernie draw her closer and kiss the top of her head. ‘Well, back to the madness I suppose,’ she sighs.

‘It’s what we do.’

‘I’d better call Jason, let him know I’m going to be late home.’

‘Will he be alright with that?’

‘We’ve talked about it. He understands we have emergencies sometimes, and we made a plan B just in case.’

‘I’ll see you out there, then,’ Bernie smiles, squeezing her hand.

*          *          *

By the time they’re finished it’s so late it’s early. In the peace of their office Serena yawns, watches Bernie wince as she stretches her back.

‘Come on,’ she says, holding out her hand. ‘Home.’

‘What?’ Bernie asks sleepily.

‘I think the roads will be significantly safer with only one of us driving tonight. This morning,’ she corrects herself. ‘Besides, I have a very comfortable mattress.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

‘We’re two grown women, Bernie. I think we can be mature about this.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Bernie says dryly.

‘Flattering as that is you don’t need to worry. I don’t know about you but I’m far too tired for anything other than sleep.’

‘What about Jason?’

‘Oh, he’ll be gone well before we wake up.’ Serena studies her closely. ‘Unless you don’t want to?’

‘I do.’

‘Then what?’

Bernie looks away, embarrassed. ‘Sometimes I have nightmares,’ she mutters to the floor.

‘Alright.’

‘Especially when it’s been… chaotic.’

‘All the more reason not to be alone.’

Bernie feels her step closer, reach out to touch her arm. She forces herself to look up, bracing herself to see pity. But there isn’t any.

‘Nothing to be ashamed of,’ Serena says steadily. ‘Now come on – before we lose our chance.’

*          *          *

‘Not exactly how I imagined out first night together,’ Serena says wryly, slipping into bed and waiting for Bernie to join her.

‘When I’m properly awake I’d be delighted to hear more,’ Bernie smiles. ‘Oh,’ she sighs blissfully, sinking into the mattress. ‘I may never leave this bed.’

‘I’d miss you in theatre.’

‘What makes you think I’d be letting you go anywhere?’ Bernie smirks, and Serena flushes.

They fall silent, and Serena can feel the tension in the woman beside her.

‘Do you want me to wake you?’ she asks cautiously. ‘If you have a nightmare.’

Bernie shakes her head. ‘Just – talk to me?’

‘That I can do,’ Serena smiles, and feels her relax a little.

And when she wakes to find Bernie tossing and whimpering beside her, she does.

‘It’s alright, Bernie. I’m here, you’re safe,’ she murmurs, over and over, until she’s calm enough for Serena to wrap an arm around her.

‘Serena?’ she whispers.

‘I’ve got you, darling.’

For a moment she worries Bernie’s going to pull away, retreat in embarrassment to the far side of the bed. But instead she snuggles closer, and Serena presses a kiss to her hair.

*          *          *

She vaguely hears Jason up and about, hears the shower, the front door open and close. Is aware of Bernie’s warmth against her. Drifts back to sleep again.

*          *          *

The next time she wakes it’s properly light, and Bernie is rolling away from her.

‘I do hope you’re not running away.’

She looks around, sees Bernie’s pained expression.

‘Your back?’ she guesses.

‘Bladder.’

‘Off with you, then.’

She grins as Bernie scrambles out of bed, then stretches luxuriously.

‘You look good in my pyjamas,’ she says approvingly when Bernie saunters back in and sits on the bed. ‘Bet you’d look even better out of them,’ she adds with a smirk, resting a hand on Bernie’s knee.

Bernie smiles and leans over her. ‘Getting into our stride now, are we?’ she teases, before ghosting her lips over Serena’s. ‘I thought, as we missed dinner and both have today off,’ she says, ignoring Serena’s pout as she sits up again, ‘we could go for breakfast. Lunch. Whatever the appropriate meal for this time of day is.’

‘Lunch, I suspect,’ Serena says, reaching for Bernie’s hand. ‘Or we could just stay in bed?’ she suggests hopefully.

‘Very tempting, Ms. Campbell, but I think my stomach has other ideas. Besides,’ she runs a hand up Serena’s arm, leans down until their noses are almost touching. ‘I thought you wanted wooing.’

‘Yes, well now I’ve got you here I rather seem to have changed my mind.’

She stretches up, and Bernie lets their lips meet. Serena is still warm and soft with sleep, and Bernie can’t help smiling at the thought of waking up to this every morning.

‘I want to do this properly,’ she says when they separate, fingers toying with strands of Serena’s hair. ‘I have a tendency to mess up relationships, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.’

Serena tilts her head, pretending to consider this, and Bernie scowls playfully.

‘And this is all new for you,’ she continues. ‘I don’t want to rush. I want to-’ she sighs and smiles. ‘I want to savour every moment.’

‘Not worried I’ll get cold feet, I hope?’

‘No. Although after last night I may insist on you wearing socks to bed.’

‘Apologies. You’ll find the rest of me is considerably warmer.’

‘You will be when I’m done with you,’ Bernie teases, watching as Serena’s eyes darken and cheeks flush.

‘It’s working already,’ Serena murmurs, tugging her closer to kiss her again.

‘But not this morning,’ Bernie says, reluctantly pulling away just as her stomach rumbles.

‘We’d better get you fed,’ Serena laughs. ‘Need to keep your strength up.’


	3. Chapter 3

They’re part way through lunch, gradually getting the hang of flirting when they aren’t both wrist deep in blood and internal organs, when Serena’s pager goes.

‘Oh, you’ve got to be bloody kidding me,’ she practically growls.

And then Bernie’s goes too.

‘We’re jinxed,’ Serena says in disbelief, their eyes meeting.

‘You call in, I’ll get the rest of lunch to go.’

Serena nods, already dialing.

‘RTC,’ she explains as they hurry to the car. ‘Six casualties, three of them serious, possibly more to come.’

‘Never a dull moment,’ Bernie says, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a mouthful.

‘Something like that.’

‘Here.’

‘What?’ Serena glances over to see Bernie holding out a torn off piece of sandwich. ‘Oh, thank you. Do you think the universe is trying to tell us something?’

‘Not to give up?’ Bernie suggests hopefully.

Serena smiles. ‘Good job we’re both stubborn and bloody-minded.’

*          *          *

AAU works like a well-oiled machine now, with the two of them at the helm. Bernie triages the patients, they deal with the most serious together and then separate for the more minor injuries. Serena finishes first, changes out of her scrubs and makes her way to the nurses station.

‘Alright Lou, I’m going to head home. I don’t want to ruin Jason’s routine two days running if I can help it. Call if you need me.’

‘Will do.’

She starts to walk to her office, turns back. ‘Ms. Wolfe?’

‘Still in theatre.’

Serena nods, gathers her things with a weary sigh. Sends a text to Bernie then, after a moment’s indecision, leaves a note on her desk as well.

She’s home in time to get shepherd’s pie in the oven, grateful to avoid Jason’s fussing. After the few days she’s had she’s certain she would have snapped at him, and then had to apologise (which he, of course, hates). Instead she sits in the kitchen while the pie cooks, a glass of Shiraz in her hand, making the most of the opportunity to be quiet and still.

Bernie calls just as she’s starting on her second glass.

‘Enough for a guest?’ she asks. ‘If that’s alright with you and Jason, that is.’

‘Well, you don’t need to check with me,’ Serena replies, heart swelling at Bernie’s consideration of her nephew. ‘Hang on – Jason?’

‘Yes, Auntie Serena?’

‘Is it alright if Bernie joins us for dinner?’

Jason nods. ‘I like her. She makes you happy.’

‘She does,’ Serena smiles. ‘You hear that?’ she asks Bernie.

‘Yep. See you soon. Oh, and Serena?’

‘Yes?’

‘You make me happy too.’

*          *          *

‘Third time lucky?’ Bernie murmurs when Serena opens the door and she leans close to brush a kiss to her cheek.

‘We can but hope.’

‘Dr. Bernie!’ Jason calls, breaking the moment. ‘Are you going to stay for QI? It’s all about maths today.’

‘I’d be delighted to, Jason – if your Auntie Serena doesn’t mind. Just don’t expect me to get any of the answers right.’

‘Bernie, could you give me a hand?’

Bernie nods, smiles at Jason and then follows Serena into the kitchen, taking the glass of wine she offers.

‘You don’t have to stay. You must be exhausted, and this isn’t exactly going to be a romantic evening.’

‘I’d like to. It means getting to spend time with you,’ she smiles, gently touching Serena’s arm. ‘And Jason’s part of your life.’

‘He’s very competitive,’ Serena warns, blinking back unexpected tears.

‘Probably a good thing I’m not in a fit state to pay attention then, otherwise you’d have to referee.’

‘How can you just be so accepting of him?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Bernie frowns.

Serena smiles weakly, lets Bernie draw her close for a moment. Then she sniffs, wipes her eyes. ‘Let’s get this pie on the table, shall we?’

Knowing Jason needs to eat on time Bernie lets her go, filing this away to discuss later. ‘Anything I can do?’

‘Take the wine and sit down. You’re my guest, after all.’

Serena spends most of dinner watching Bernie and Jason. To begin with she’s almost holding her breath, waiting for something to go wrong. But nothing does, and eventually she starts to relax, feeling a little teary again at how they are together.

She refuses Bernie’s offer to help with the washing up. ‘You’re my guest,’ she repeats, sending her out of the kitchen with another glass of wine.

When she’s alone Serena closes her eyes, grips the edge of the sink with her Marigolds, breathes deeply.

_Hold it together now. It’s just dinner, you stupid woman. What are you getting so emotional about?_

*          *          *

Serena walks into the room just as the QI theme music starts. Jason sat in his armchair, so Bernie has settled herself at one end of the sofa. She doesn’t know what Serena wants them to be in front of Jason, doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so left plenty of space for her.

But Serena sits close beside her, doesn’t hesitate to touch her. Eventually Bernie ends up with Serena’s head in her lap, one hand gently stroking through her hair. She can’t remember the last time she felt this peaceful, this happy, and sighs.

‘Alright?’ Serena murmurs, shifting to look at her.

‘Just thinking how lucky I am to have ended up on AAU.’

‘Not what you were saying this afternoon,’ Serena teases.

Before she can reply Jason shushes them and they both grin, eyes holding a moment longer.

When QI ends, Jason stands to head up to his room. ‘Dr. Bernie,’ he says, stopping on the threshold.

‘Yes, Jason?’ she says, twisting to look at him.

‘Are you Auntie Serena’s girlfriend?’

Bernie feels Serena stiffen, chooses her words very carefully. ‘We haven’t really put a label on what we are yet, Jason. We’re just seeing what happens. Would it bother you if I was?’

‘No,’ he says simply. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Night,’ Bernie smiles, watching him out of the room, waiting to hear that he’s reached the top of the stairs before she speaks again. ‘Was that alright?’

Serena just nods, not trusting her voice to remain steady.

‘I didn’t want to lie to him,’ she explains. ‘I’ve done too much of that already.’

Serena takes a shuddering breath, and Bernie tries not to panic.

‘You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Berenice Wolfe?’ she says hoarsely.

Bernie hesitates a moment, then jiggles her knees. ‘Come here.’

‘Comfy,’ Serena protests.

‘Come on,’ Bernie insists.

Reluctantly, Serena sits up and looks at her. ‘What?’

‘I can’t kiss you down there,’ Bernie smiles. For now she ignores the tears shining in Serena’s eyes, caresses her cheek and draws her closer until their lips brush and she feels Serena’s body soften.

‘Not exactly a conventional first date,’ she apologises. ‘Interrupted by two RTCs and then shared with my nephew.’

‘No,’ Bernie concedes. ‘Makes for a good story though.’

‘Yes, much more interesting than dinner for two at a nice restaurant,’ Serena says sarcastically. ‘I’m not sure you realise what you’re letting yourself in for.’

Bernie shrugs. ‘Life’s messy and complicated.’

‘You can say that again.’

It’s clear that Serena is unconvinced, and Bernie struggles to find the words to express how she feels. ‘I know Jason can be challenging,’ she begins.

‘Try infuriating,’ Serena mutters.

‘But I like him,’ Bernie continues, ignoring the interruption. ‘And it’s clear that you’ve grown to love him very much.’

Serena smiles and nods. ‘We’ve become something of a package deal. Not exactly what most single people of our age are looking for.’

‘Robbie was an idiot. NHS rumour mill,’ she explains, seeing Serena’s shocked expression.

‘It wasn’t what he signed up for.’

‘I knew what I was signing up for,’ she says with a soft smile. ‘We’re adults. We both have a family, a past. Baggage.’

‘You really don’t mind?’

‘No,’ Bernie says, a little too forcefully. ‘No,’ she repeats, softer. ‘If you can accept all of my flaws and issues, I think I can manage to accept Jason.’

Serena tries to nestle into Bernie’s shoulder to hide her tears, but Bernie shifts just enough that she can’t reach.

‘Are these good tears?’ she asks cautiously.

Serena nods and sniffs. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.’

‘As long as I haven’t done something wrong.’

‘No,’ she smiles. ‘Somehow you seem to be doing everything right.’

‘No need to sound so surprised,’ Bernie teases in mock outrage, drawing a laugh from Serena. ‘Come here,’ she says, holding out her arm.

Serena leans against her gratefully, one hand coming to settle on Bernie’s waist.

‘Stay?’ she asks, once the tears have stopped and she’s become calm listening to Bernie’s heart, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Bernie shakes her head. ‘Some of us have to be in early tomorrow.’

Serena mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a curse on work and duty rosters and patients and shifts and the _bloody NHS_.

‘I’ll give you a goodnight kiss, though,’ Bernie murmurs into Serena’s hair.

‘You’d better,’ she retorts.


	4. Chapter 4

Three evenings later Jason has chess club, and Serena has taken advantage of her freedom by booking a table at an Italian restaurant. But watching Bernie towards the end of her shift she can see the tightness in her jaw, the odd look in her eyes, the way she’s moving just a little too carefully. In their office she studies Bernie shrewdly as she gingerly sits down, not missing the almost hidden wince.

Decision made, she picks up the phone. ‘I’ve got a reservation for 7.30 but I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel. Campbell. Thank you very much.’

‘I’m fine, Serena,’ Bernie protests, getting up to prove her point but gasping, hands shooting to the desk to brace herself.

‘No, you’re not,’ Serena says firmly. ‘The point of a date is to enjoy it, and neither of us is going to be able to do that with you in this state. Now, sit down.’

Meekly Bernie complies, filling with remorse. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for? It’s not your fault. How about an evening of pizza and paperwork instead?’

‘I’d prefer pizza and kisses,’ Bernie says hopefully.

‘I’m sure kisses can be arranged,’ Serena smiles. ‘But only in conjunction with paperwork. I can hardly see your desk, and mine isn’t much better.’

‘Fine,’ Bernie huffs dramatically, drawing a laugh from Serena.

‘I’ll order pizza, then. But I’m not getting pineapple on it.’

‘What’s wrong with pineapple on pizza?’

Serena stares at her, eyebrows raised.

‘First Raf, now you. If I’d known AAU was full of pizza snobs I’d’ve stayed on Keller,’ Bernie teases.

*          *          *

While they wait they start on their respective heaps of paperwork, but Bernie keeps shifting uncomfortably in her chair and neither of them can focus.

‘Come on,’ Serena says eventually, giving in.

‘Hm?’ Bernie looks at her, frowning.

Serena stands up, holds out a hand. ‘You can’t work like that. Let me give it a rub.’

‘Are you sure?’ Bernie asks, not entirely certain that allowing Serena to touch her in their office is a good idea.

‘On your feet, Major,’ Serena says firmly.

There’s no refusing that tone so Bernie creaks upright, shuffles across to collapse into the visitor’s chair Serena has pulled into the middle of the room, hand trailing along the edge of the desk for support.

Serena rubs her palms together to warm them a little, then smooths them across Bernie’s shoulders before starting to work on her tense muscles.

Serena has never been more aware of how thin scrubs are. Just a layer of fabric between her hands and Bernie’s skin. She pushes away the thoughts of all the other things she wants to do with her hands, all the other places she wants to touch. Focuses on finding each knot, on teasing them out one by one, listening to Bernie’s groans of pain and relief. Tries desperately not to think about what else she might do to make her groan.

For her part, Bernie is fighting to make as little noise as possible. But the feel of Serena’s palms smoothing across her back, her fingers pressing hard against sore muscles, is more than she can contain. She’s grateful for the stiffness, grateful that it keeps her from twisting around and sliding her hands into Serena’s hair, from crashing their lips together. From pushing her back against the desk and-

She shakes her head slightly but the image is already there, lodged in her mind. And Serena’s touches are no longer therapeutic but agonising, each brush and knead coiling hot desire in the pit of her belly.

 _Surely the pizza will be here soon?_ Bernie thinks, almost desperately.

Distracted by unabating imaginings, Serena’s thumbs gradually work their way up Bernie’s spine in tiny circles: lumbar, thoracic, cervical. Over the hem of her scrubs to meet hot, bare skin, sweeping through strands of silky hair and up to the base of her skull.

Bernie drops her head, stretching her neck as much as she can. Tries to ignore how it feels to have Serena’s skin against hers.

And then Serena’s fingers are tangling in her hair, short nails lightly scratching her scalp, tracing the contours of her skull. Bernie can’t suppress the shiver, the moan decidedly not borne of pain or relief.

Serena leans closer, one hand dropping to rest lightly on her shoulder then sliding down to her elbow, trailing fire and ice in its wake. Bernie can feel her softness against her back, can feel her hot breath inches from her ear. Can hear how fast and shallow it is, in consonance with her own. Slowly she turns, tips of their noses meeting. Serena’s eyes are dark – _oh, so dark_ – and heavy-lidded with desire, and Bernie swallows.

‘Serena,’ she murmurs, lifting one hand from her lap to touch Serena’s, skin hypersensitive as their fingers slide together.

‘Bernie,’ she breathes, their lips grazing.

Bernie twists around further. Her back, eased by Serena’s ministrations, fails to protest. She slides one hand around Serena’s waist to settle on the small of her back, holding her close, deepens the kiss until her head spins.

And then the phone rings.

‘That’ll be dinner,’ Serena murmurs unsteadily.

‘Hm,’ Bernie manages, eyes fixed on Serena’s. ‘Go,’ she urges, dropping her hand back to her lap. ‘Before I can’t let you.’

Serena nods, holds her gaze a moment longer. Brushes their lips one last time before finally moving away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done some judicious thieving from/hacking around of 'Life in the Freezer' in this chapter - so if you recognise it, I didn't write it!

It’s a day like any other on AAU; Cathy Higson is a patient like any other, sent up to them from the ED. But soon it becomes evident that Cathy is dying. Again not unusual, not really. They see a lot of death, after all; they’re no strangers to grief and loss. Bernie has seen more of it than she cares to recall in the field (but she does recall, every single one of them, every colleague and friend and stranger she couldn’t save, who died in her arms, on her operating table).

No, it’s not Cathy dying that touches them both but her husband’s devotion, his utter certainty that all this pain is worth what they shared. His unwavering belief that medical science will develop to the point where at some time, somewhere in the future, they’ll be together again, can have the long, happy life they had expected and planned for.

Serena thinks that it’s futile. She’s read enough about cryonics to think that if it ever _does_ become a reality it’s too far away for them to benefit. But like she told Bernie that isn’t the point, not really. It isn’t about the reality of them being thawed out – cured – together. It’s about the depth of his love, about giving him hope so that he can go on without her. Hope of a happy ending. And to her that’s something beautiful.

Bernie thinks it’s futile too. Not merely a distant future but an impossible one. This is all there is: she dies, and he’s left behind to try and piece his broken heart back together again. If he didn’t love her so much, it wouldn’t hurt so much. It’s always a gamble, getting close to someone. But where Serena sees the love, she sees the pain.

And then as Raf walks away she sees Serena, coming out of the side room and closing the door behind her.

Serena, sorrow all over her face.

Serena, whose eyes light up when they meet hers.

 _That’s going to be us,_ Bernie thinks suddenly, and it’s like her ribcage contracts without warning, squeezing the breath from her lungs until she can hardly breathe. _That’s going to be us._

Serena’s beside her now. Her lips are moving but Bernie can’t make out the words, can only hear the pounding of her heart. She lays a hand on Bernie’s arm, but when usually her touch would ground her now it feeds the rising swell of panic. She blinks, looks away, but can’t shake it. Glances back at Serena and the look in her eyes – _love_ , she thinks, almost hysterically – breaks her.

Without a word she pulls her arm from Serena’s grasp, ignoring the chill when their skin loses contact, and strides from the ward, fighting not to run.

*          *          *

Serena stares after her. She recognises the look on her face – the panic – from before, from when Bernie drew away from her after their first kiss, tried to end them before they had even begun, before there was anything _to_ end. She takes a step then pauses, remembering what Bernie had said about her needing to loosen her grip.

Her eyes linger on the doors Bernie disappeared out of, then she sighs and turns back to the ward. Assesses a patient, gives Raf a second opinion on the best course of treatment for another, discharges a third. Returns to their office to complete a report, glances at Bernie’s empty chair and stops in her tracks.

 _Enough time_ , she decides. She looks onto the ward: it’s quiet, Raf has everything under control, she won’t be missed.

She considers where Bernie might have gone, narrows it down to the peace garden or the roof. _The roof,_ she decides, thinking of how Bernie had led her there without hesitation on that terrible day with Jason and Celia and the neverending demands of Hanssen and the Board. Of how everyone in Holby seems to be drawn there when they need space.

On the stairs she meets Dom.

‘Ah, Dr. Copeland. I- I don’t suppose you’ve seen Ms. Wolfe at all?’

‘Up on the roof.’

Serena nods, starts to pass him.

‘Ms. Campbell?’

She turns back, looks down at him.

‘She isn’t like you.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I- I’m sorry, it isn’t my place.’

‘Since when has that ever stopped you?’

He looks suitably chastised, but Serena is smiling.

‘Come on then, spit it out.’

He hesitates, trying to find the words. ‘She’s terrified of getting in too deep and then getting hurt.’

‘Aren’t we all?’

He tilts his head in admission. ‘But all she sees are the unhappy endings. It means she can’t see happiness as a viable outcome.’

Serena looks at the floor, lets out a small sigh.

‘Ms. Campbell?’

‘Yes, Dr. Copeland?’

‘She’s been happy recently, because of you. I think she was starting to believe it could last, but today – I don’t know,’ he shrugs.

‘Today we have a patient who’s reminded her that while love can last, death still gets in the way.’

Dom offers a small smile. ‘She does care, you know.’

‘Too much, perhaps,’ Serena says ruefully, and Dom nods.

‘I’ll let you get on.’

‘Thank you, Dominic.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

Serena watches him go then continues on, up and up, until she runs out of stairs. She pauses, takes a fortifying breath, then pushes the door open and steps out.

Bernie’s staring across the city. Here, alone and unwatched, she’s let her guard down and Serena can see the anguish on her face.

‘Bit of a pants hiding place,’ Serena says softly, not wanting to startle her. ‘Next time you might want to try somewhere we haven’t all used at some point.’

Bernie glances at her briefly then looks away again. Serena can see her thinking herself into a hole, knows she needs to tread carefully. Her instinct is to sit beside her, put an arm around her shoulders and draw her close. Instead she hangs back, takes just one step so she’s in the periphery of Bernie’s vision. Waits. Hopes the hole isn’t already too deep, the walls too high for her to scale.

‘That could be us one day,’ Bernie says quietly, words almost carried away by the breeze.

‘Yes.’ Serena’s heart skips at the realisation that Bernie, too, has been thinking of them as long-term, as having a future.

‘Doesn’t that terrify you? The thought of caring so much about someone and then losing them?’

‘Yes,’ Serena repeats. _Oh yes,_ she thinks. _How close I’ve already been to losing you to your fear._ ‘But-’ She sighs heavily, trying to find the right words, the words that will express what she’s feeling without overwhelming her.

‘What?’ Bernie asks, a pleading note in her voice.

‘I think it’s worth it. I think their love, the happiness they’ve had- yes it hurts, _of course_ it hurts.’

‘But the pain is worth it?’

‘You don’t think it is?’ Serena asks, terrified what the answer will be. _This isn’t it,_ she thinks fiercely. _I won’t let this be it._

‘All I ever do is hurt people,’ she says sadly.

‘That’s not true, Bernie.’

‘Marcus, Alex, my kids. I don’t want to hurt you too, Serena, because I- I care about you.’

‘You’ve brought me more happiness than I’ve felt in a very long time.’

‘What if that stops?’ Bernie frowns, voice rough and unsteady. ‘What if one day I don’t make you happy any more?’

‘There have already been times when you’ve upset me, angered me, and I’m sure you will again. But I’m still here, I still- I still want you, us.’ Serena tries to keep the desperation from her voice as she sees Bernie closing in on herself, arms wrapping around her stomach.

‘The closer we get, the more it’ll hurt. I won’t risk that.’

Serena crosses the roof almost before she realises she’s moved, perches beside Bernie. Doesn’t touch her, not yet. Bernie avoids looking at her, but Serena can see her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. She grips the edge of the step to keep herself from reaching for her.

‘And what if it doesn’t stop, hm?’ she asks gently. ‘What if we never stop making each other happy?’

‘One of us will die.’

‘Everyone dies. And someone’s always left behind. Isn’t is better to grab happiness where you can, to create good memories?’

Bernie sighs, a stuttering, broken sound that tears at Serena’s heart, but doesn’t speak.

 _Time to change tack,_ Serena thinks.

‘Do you always make decisions about people’s futures for them?’ she asks, voice firmer now.

Bernie’s head snaps around. ‘What?’

‘Well, I was under the impression that there are two of us in this relationship. Do I not get a say?’

‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’ She tries to hold Serena’s gaze but can’t, eyes slipping away to the grey sky again.

‘This only works if you actually listen to me, Bernie,’ she says sternly. ‘Now, I know you’re scared, and that’s alright. But please don’t shut me out, please don’t run away from this – from me.’

‘I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do this,’ Bernie confesses, barely audible, finally meeting her gaze and holding it.

Serena reaches for her cold hands, wraps them in her own.

‘I keep thinking how wonderful it could be, spending my life with you,’ Bernie smiles sadly, blinking hard but not able to keep her tears from spilling over. ‘And then today it just-’ she looks at Serena helplessly.

‘All got a bit much?’ she suggests, and Bernie nods. ‘You’re not alone,’ Serena soothes, thumb rubbing Bernie’s knuckles. ‘I understand if you need some time and space to-’

‘Sort myself out?’ Bernie says bitterly.

‘I was going to say to get used to the idea,’ Serena smiles. ‘But you’re not alone. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.’

Bernie looks at her, eyes wide with fear but filled with trust, her expression so like after Fletch’s operation that Serena almost feels they’re back on the floor of the theatre.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she repeats.

And, just like that night, Bernie leans towards her and kisses her.

‘Thank you,’ she murmurs. ‘I’m sorry.’

Serena shakes her head, smiles warmly. ‘I’ve got your back, remember. Now, why don’t we go inside, before we both freeze?’

Bernie nods, slips her hands from Serena’s grasp so they can rise from the hard metal steps.

‘Serena, could- could I-’ Bernie hesitates, looks at her feet, embarrassment tingeing her cheeks.

‘Out with it,’ Serena says gently.

Bernie takes a breath, finally whispers to the floor, ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight.’

‘It’s fish and chips night,’ Serena smiles, holding out her hand.

‘Sounds good.’ Bernie manages a smile in return, slips her hand into Serena’s.

Serena laces their fingers, squeezes gently, and Bernie feels herself calm, some sense of equilibrium returning.

‘Can we do anything for them, for Pete?’ Bernie asks as they step through the door and start down the stairs.

‘No,’ Serena sighs sadly. ‘Unless you can think of a way to verify death and release the body before brain death begins, that is.’

Bernie stops short, pulling Serena up beside her. ‘I can do that.’

‘What?’ Serena frowns.

Bernie looks at her, eyes glinting. _I would do anything for this woman_ , she realises suddenly. _I would cheat death for her – I_ will _cheat death for her._ ‘I can do that,’ she repeats, tugging Serena closer and pressing a kiss to her lips before setting off down the stairs at a jog.


	6. Chapter 6

Serena gets out of theatre later than expected thanks to complications during what should have been a straightforward laparoscopic appendectomy, wanting nothing more than a hug from Bernie followed by a large glass (or three) of Shiraz. What she finds is an empty office and a dozen missed calls from Jason, sending her pulse skyrocketing. There are two voicemails from Bernie too, and with shaking fingers she holds the phone to her ear.

‘Feel a bit of an idiot leaving a message on a phone I’m in the same room as, but here goes. Jason called me when he couldn’t get hold of you – something about your toilet not working? He’s quite – well, you know how he is. So I’m going to go and see if I can do anything. I’ll let you know. Oh, and don’t worry, Serena – I’ve got this for you. I’ve got your back.’

Serena lets out her breath in a whoosh, glad she had thought to give Jason Bernie’s number, glad he had thought to call her. Listens to the second message.

‘I know you probably won’t be out of theatre yet but just in case – I’ve turned off your water and taken your toilet to bits. I think I know what’s wrong with it and how to fix it, so we’re just popping out to Wickes for supplies. I promise I’ll tidy up – your bathroom’ll be good as new.’

Serena groans at the thought of what Bernie and Jason might have done to her bathroom between them, at what she might arrive home to. Not that she doesn’t trust Bernie – far from it. There’s no one she’d trust more with her nephew.

 _Jason_. His routine will have been smashed to pieces. _Not my fault this time, at least_ , she thinks wryly. But Bernie understands routine, understands him. He’ll be fine.

 _Oh Bernie_ , she thinks, suddenly worried again. It’s only a matter of days since their rooftop conversation, since Bernie’s panic. _What if this is too much?_

Quickly Serena gathers her belongings, hurries out to her car. Spends the whole journey fretting that Bernie will see Jason as another person she’s destined to hurt, that the fear will have crept back in, that she’s going to bolt at the first available opportunity. There’s no trace of it in her voice, in her messages, but however well Serena knows Bernie she also knows she’s spent a lifetime hiding her emotions. Doesn’t dare to presume Bernie has let her in enough that she couldn’t hide them from her too.

She needn’t have worried.

She gets home to find Bernie with her hands in the empty cistern, Jason watching carefully to make sure everything matches a printed diagram.

‘Hello Auntie Serena,’ Jason smiles. ‘We’ve almost finished.’

‘You’re both soaked. Not to mention my floor.’

‘Sorry,’ Bernie says sheepishly. ‘Hadn’t quite tightened something enough when we tested it.’

‘Never mind,’ Serena smiles. ‘It’s only water.’

‘Which I _will_ clean up. Promise.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’

Bernie shakes her head, returns her attention to the toilet. ‘Right, I think that’s it. Jason, do you want to go and turn the water on again?’

‘Ok.’

‘Not too much, mind,’ Bernie calls as he disappears and heads downstairs.

Serena watches as Bernie crouches down to check for leaks. They hear the gurgle of water through the pipes but this time there are no drips.

‘Good at fixing plumbing as well as bodies,’ Serena remarks.

Bernie looks up at her, practically glowing with her success. ‘Well, I aim to please,’ she grins. ‘Good work partner,’ she says to Jason. ‘Now, why don’t you find a dry shirt and then tell Auntie Serena what we’ve been up to while I tidy up, and then we can make a start on dinner?’

‘Are you sure you don’t want a hand?’

‘I made the mess, I’ll tidy it up. You go and open a bottle.’

So Serena follows Jason back downstairs, pours herself a glass of wine and listens as he goes into detail about what was wrong and how Bernie let him help her fix it, and what they decided to make for dinner (‘a full English, so we don’t waste the sausages’) just in case they weren’t finished in time.

 _Very great detail,_ Serena thinks, grateful for the wine but even more grateful for Bernie, for how she dealt with him and included him and let him help.

Having tidied away the tools and rubbish and mopped the puddles from the floor, Bernie is now pottering around in the kitchen, rattling in the cupboards in search of a pan. Serena sneaks up behind her and gently touches her back, making her jump.

‘Can you wear louder shoes?’ Bernie exclaims.

‘That’s rich coming from you,’ Serena teases, hand sliding up to her shoulder. ‘You need to change out of this.’

Bernie smirks and raises her eyebrows.

‘Before you catch a chill,’ Serena continues, swatting her arm.

‘Ok, just let me get these in. Dinner’s going to be almost on time.’

Serena leans against the kitchen counter, watching as Bernie lays sausages and frozen hash browns on a tray and slides it into the oven.

‘All yours,’ she smiles, reaching for Serena’s hand and tugging her upright.

Serena leads her back upstairs to her bedroom, her wardrobe, pulls out a shirt and lays it on the bed. She turns to leave but Bernie grasps at her hand and draws her back and, careful not to get her clothes wet too, kisses her. They haven’t kissed – not properly – since their conversation on the roof and Serena feels simultaneously grounded and light as air, can’t keep the smile from her lips.

*          *          *

Later, when Jason has gone up to his room after dinner (perfectly orchestrated by Bernie so everything was ready at exactly the same time) and quiz shows ( _they would make a terrifying team_ , Serena can’t help thinking), she tries to thank Bernie properly.

‘And not just for your DIY skills, as welcome as they are. For coping with Jason too. I know he isn’t easy.’

‘It was no trouble, Serena. I like him – and he has impressive internet research skills.’

She looks utterly unfazed, Serena realises, settled on her sofa like she belongs there, Serena’s own shirt draped loosely around her slender frame. Serena hadn’t thought it was possible to love her any more and yet here she is, heart swelling as if her chest is barely able to contain it.

‘Well, thank you anyway,’ she smiles. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Bernie smiles in return, reaches for her hand, fingers just brushing.

Their eyes meet, and Serena can see no hint of panic, no uncertainty. ‘It’s late,’ she says. ‘Would you like to stay?’

‘I’d love to, but I’ll need to get back to my flat to change before work and it’ll be a nightmare to get across town at that time of day.’

Serena almost points out that she does have clothes drying capabilities, thank you very much, but stops herself and just nods, her smile only fading a little.

‘Leopard print not your style?’ she quips instead, drawing a laugh from Bernie.

‘Can you imagine the look on Fletch’s face if I walked in wearing this?’

‘The game would be well and truly up then.’

‘Would it- would it matter to you? If they knew?’

‘Much as I hate being the subject of the rumour mill, no,’ Serena replies, taking Bernie’s hand. ‘No, I- I don’t think it would. Would it bother you?’ she asks hesitantly, voice barely audible, looking at her lap. ‘I know you suffered when they found out about Alex, I understand if you don’t want to go through that again.’

Bernie shifts closer and gently coaxes her chin upwards until their eyes meet.

‘This is different,’ she says earnestly. ‘I was ashamed of having lied and cheated and hurt people I care about. Being open and honest about a relationship with another woman is new for both of us but I don’t want to hide this. It matters too much to me – _you_ matter too much to me. Not sure I want to announce it like this though. It would be like walking around with a flashing neon sign above our heads.

‘You’re not wrong,’ Serena sighs. ‘Much as I love our colleagues, they are partial to a good gossip and that would be irresistible.’

‘I’d just- I’d rather it was on our own terms,’ Bernie says hesitantly. ‘Not something that could be – misconstrued? I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.’

‘Ah, you mean you don’t want them to think I only want you for your big macho army medic body?’ Serena teases.

‘Precisely,’ Bernie chuckles. ‘You’re so much more to me than that, Serena,’ she adds seriously.

‘I know, darling. As are you to me. Although I must admit I _am_ looking forward to getting my hands on the rest of you.’

Bernie inhales sharply at the suggestiveness in her tone, and Serena delights in the way her eyes darken. ‘You were the one who wanted wooing,’ Bernie points out, when she finds her voice.

‘Not going to let me forget that, are you?’

Bernie grins. ‘Think of it as extended foreplay,’ she murmurs, fingers gently stroking Serena’s cheek.

‘Better be worth the wait.’

Bernie leans closer, until their noses are almost touching. ‘Doubting my ability with my hands, Ms. Campbell?’

An image of Bernie’s hands, wrist deep inside a patient, fingers moving carefully and surely and precisely, flashes before Serena’s eyes. ‘Not in the slightest,’ she says shakily. ‘You may have just ruined me for theatre, though.’

Bernie smirks, leans closer still and kisses her, leaving Serena in no doubt how much she is wanted, desired. In no doubt how much _she_ wants, desires.

Eventually she draws back, pushes Bernie away slightly. ‘Go on,’ she whispers reluctantly. ‘Home with you, then.’

‘Afraid you won’t be able to let me go?’ Bernie teases.

‘Something like that,’ Serena admits. ‘My powers of resistance are waning.’

‘Mine too,’ Bernie confesses. ‘Life will stop getting in the way soon, won’t it?’

‘If not, the universe is going to have me to answer to,’ Serena says grimly.


	7. Chapter 7

Bernie arrives on AAU several hours before the start of her shift, bleary eyed and yawning, much to the surprise of the night shift. She sips her first, desperately needed, coffee of the day and stares at the pile of paperwork on Serena’s desk. With a sigh she hefts it up and drops it onto her own desk, sits down heavily and takes another sip, finds a pen amid the chaos. She pulls out her phone and sets an alarm for fifteen minutes before Serena’s usual arrival time then opens the first file and gets to work.

She’s just signing off the last form when her alarm goes: a good omen for the rest of the day, surely? She stretches out her back, drops her empty cup into the bin and then walks briskly to Pulses to buy their usual coffees and a pastry. Back in their office she decants Serena’s coffee into a mug, slides the long chocolate twist onto a plate scavenged from the staff room, and shoots a text to Serena:

‘In already and have coffee – come straight up!’

Then she finishes arranging Serena’s desk, sits down and sips her coffee and, eyes on the clock, waits.

*

Serena opens the door precisely when Bernie expects her to.

‘Good morning,’ Bernie smiles, springing up to take her coat.

‘What’s all this?’ Serena asks suspiciously.

‘A little bird by the name of Jason told me it’s a certain auntie’s birthday today, so – happy birthday.’

She kisses Serena softly then leads her to her chair, gently pushes her into it and perches on the desk beside her.

Stunned, Serena gazes at what’s in front of her. She knows her lack of response will worry Bernie, reaches out to put a hand on her knee. The purple phalaenopsis dominates, and Serena lightly touches one of the leaves.

‘You remembered,’ she whispers, thinking of the throwaway comment about her mother she’d made months ago.

‘Of course,’ Bernie smiles. ‘Have some coffee, before it gets cold.’

‘Hang on,’ Serena frowns, picking up the mug. ‘Where’s all my paperwork?’

‘Done,’ Bernie says proudly. ‘Thought you’d prefer to spend your birthday in theatre rather than stuck behind a desk.’

‘You- you’ve done all my paperwork?’

Bernie nods.

‘You must’ve been here for hours.’

‘A while,’ she admits. ‘You had rather let it stack up,’ she adds teasingly.

‘You hate paperwork.’

‘Yes. But I- I wanted to do something nice for you, make your day nice.’

‘Well then I’m a very lucky woman. Thank you, darling.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

Serena sips her coffee, tears off a piece of chocolate twist and passes it to Bernie.

‘No, no, that’s yours,’ she protests.

‘And I want to share it. You aren’t going to deny the birthday girl her wishes, are you?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare,’ Bernie smiles, accepting the pastry.

Serena tears off a piece for herself then reaches for the envelope propped against the plant pot, carefully opens it and pulls out the contents: two tickets for an evening of Baroque music, including Bach and Vivaldi.

‘I know it isn’t for months,’ Bernie says anxiously. ‘But I, uh, I thought it would be something to look forward to.’

Serena looks at her, puts the tickets down so she can squeeze her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘I will indeed look forward to it – and all the time with you in between.’

Bernie lets out a breath of relief, is just about to lean forward to kiss her when they’re interrupted by a knock.

‘Morning,’ Raf smiles. ‘Could do with a hand?’

‘Just give me a minute,’ Bernie says, and he nods and heads back onto the ward. ‘You finish your breakfast in peace.’

She tries to move away but Serena tugs her closer and kisses her tenderly, if briefly.

‘Dinner tonight?’ Bernie murmurs. ‘Birthday treat – there might even be cake.’

‘How could I refuse such an offer?’ Serena smiles, brushing their lips again before reluctantly letting go.

*          *          *

They’re joined on AAU by Ric today, sent by Hanssen to take charge of François Yates. In between operations (Bernie lets Serena take all of them today, joins her in theatre for some but mostly keeps an eye on the ward, keeps on top of the paperwork, determined not to let anything ruin Serena’s day) they stand close together, watching with amused expressions as he deals with the woman.

‘Nice to see romance blossoming,’ Serena comments, and Bernie shifts a little closer until their arms are touching.

‘Indeed,’ she smiles, looking at her fondly, fingers reaching to brush Serena’s. She doesn’t pull away when Ric glances across; neither does Serena tense beside her.

*

Bernie looks up from the scan she’s studying to see a young woman walk onto the ward.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I’m looking for-’

‘Elinor? What are you doing here?’

‘Surprise,’ she smiles. ‘Happy birthday, mum.’

Bernie watches as Serena hugs her daughter, suspects that her carefully laid plans are about to be shot to pieces.

‘How long are you here for, darling?’

‘Just the rest of the day, I’ve got to leave again first thing. So I thought maybe you could sneak away early, then shopping and dinner? You do have a co-lead now, after all. And Mr. Griffin’s down here too,’ she adds, pointing to Ric, who is engrossed in yet another conversation with Françoise. ‘So really you’re surplus to requirements.’

‘I suppose I am,’ Serena says, glancing at Bernie. ‘But I’m due in theatre. And, well, I do actually already have plans for the evening, Ellie.’

‘Oh come on, Mum. I came specially. Please,’ she adds, when Serena still looks hesitant. ‘I’m sure Bernie won’t mind covering for you in theatre,’ she tries, looking at Bernie pleadingly.

‘I can hold the fort here,’ Bernie smiles, hiding her disappointment.

‘But what about dinner?’

‘I’ll still be here tomorrow. Elinor won’t.’ She longs to reach out and touch Serena but doesn’t know what she’s told Elinor, what she wants her to know. She satisfies herself with meeting Serena’s eye instead.

‘Alright,’ she says eventually, and Elinor grins. ‘Just let me get my coat.’ She looks meaningfully at Bernie who follows her to their office.

‘Elinor,’ she hears Ric say behind them as she pushes the door to slightly. ‘Good to see you again, how’ve you been?’

‘I’m sorry, darling,’ Serena apologises quietly, aware of the open door behind them.

‘It’s alright, Serena,’ she says, reaching to gently touch her arm. ‘I have an atrocious relationship with my kids, I’m not going to begrudge you time with Elinor.’

‘But your plans,’ she protests.

Bernie shakes her head, smiles. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ Bernie says firmly. ‘Go and celebrate with Ellie and we’ll have a second birthday sometime, just the two of us.’

‘Ok,’ Serena smiles. ‘That sounds nice.’

Bernie leans against the desk, watching as Serena packs her bag. Suddenly she freezes and looks up, frowning.

‘Should I- should I tell her? About us?’

‘That’s up to you. I’m hardly going to pressure you into it, I’ve no right after the mess I made.’

Serena nods, swallows hard. ‘It’s just- oh Bernie, what if she-’ She hesitates, voice dropping to almost a whisper, stares at her desk. ‘What if she hates me?’

Bernie looks out onto the ward to see Ric and Ellie still talking, Ellie’s back to the office. She pushes herself up, moves to rub Serena’s arm. ‘I don’t think she will. But if you’re not ready that’s fine.’

‘It’s not that I want to hide this from her, I just- I’m scared.’

‘I know. Believe me, I know.’

Serena looks at her anxiously, and Bernie longs to kiss her because that would be so much easier than doing this with words.

‘Your choice,’ Bernie says seriously. ‘And whatever you decide, I’ll still be here. I’ll still-’ She hesitates, takes a breath. ‘I’ll still want you,’ she finishes softly, feeling like a coward for not being able to say it. She slips her hand from Serena’s grasp and moves to rummage in her own bag, pulls out two more wrapped gifts. ‘Here.’

‘Oh you shouldn’t have,’ Serena protests, but Bernie holds them towards her insistently.

‘Open them later, when you get home.’

‘You spoil me,’ Serena scolds, but can’t suppress a smile as she slips them into her bag.

‘You’re worth it,’ Bernie murmurs, helping her into her coat and then drawing her close. They hold each other for a long moment then lips brush cheeks, the edges of their mouths just catching. Not enough, but better than nothing. Enough for now.

‘Right then, birthday girl.’

They walk back onto the ward together, join Ric and Ellie at the nurses station.

‘She’s all yours,’ Bernie smiles.

‘Thanks Bernie,’ Ellie grins, slipping her arm through Serena’s.

‘Have fun.’

Serena nods and steps away, fingers lingering on Bernie’s as long as possible, and Ric smiles to himself as he starts to walk back towards Mrs. Yates.

‘Make sure you tease him for both of us,’ Serena says, just loud enough for him to hear.

‘Oh I will,’ Bernie smirks, ignoring Ric’s scowl.

*          *          *

Jason has gone to bed. Elinor is pottering around in the spare room. Already in her pyjamas, Serena is sat up in bed with a cup of tea, Bernie’s presents on the covers beside her. She picks up the first, runs her fingers over the paper (Bernie’s splashed out and gone for stripes in AAU and Trauma Unit blue rather than brown paper this time), squeezes gently: feels like a book. Serena opens it carefully, sliding her fingers under each flap of paper, to find a well-thumbed and clearly much-read copy of _The Price of Salt._ She’s never read it; knows what it’s about, of course, thanks to the film adaptation (which she hasn’t seen either – when _exactly_ would she have found the time for that?).

Inside the cover is the name ‘Bernie Wolfe’, in handwriting that is familiar yet subtly different – _younger, somehow_ , Serena thinks. And on the title page, in exactly the writing she’s used to seeing every day on countless charts and forms:

‘Serena,

This book means a lot to me – and so do you.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Happy birthday.

Love Bernie x’

Serena’s eyes fill and she ghosts her fingers over the words, lingering on ‘love’. She imagines a younger Bernie staying up late reading, eyes glued to the page. An older Bernie reading it again, her feelings for Alex giving everything a freshness, a new meaning. _Her_ Bernie, taking it off her bookshelf and caressing the cover, flipping through the pages, thinking of her. She turns to the first page, reads the first sentence then makes herself stop before she gets engrossed.

She puts it down carefully and picks up the second present. It rattles: either a DVD or she’s broken it. Bernie’s put a tag on this one:

‘Probably not one to watch with Jason… Bernie x’.

Intrigued she tears it open with considerably less care, and smiles when she sees what it is: _Carol_.

Her eyes stray back to the book. She opens it to look at the inscription again, sips her tea and wishes Bernie were there to snuggle into. She reaches for her phone, glances at the clock and hesitates a moment, then picks it up anyway, scrolls to Bernie’s number.

‘Hello there, beautiful birthday girl. Have you had a good evening?’

‘I have, thank you. So have you, by the sound of things.’

‘Just a couple of drinks with Ric.’

‘Should I be jealous?’ Serena teases.

Bernie snorts. ‘I think he’s far too taken with Madame Yates to pay any attention to me. Besides,’ she adds, the mirth draining from her voice. ‘He, um, well, he knows.’

‘Knows what?’ Serena asks suspiciously.

‘About- about us.’

‘You outed me to Ric Griffin? Oh, he’ll just love that, he’ll be insufferable.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie mumbles. ‘I, uh, I didn’t tell him. He guessed.’

‘You mean he was able to tear his eyes away from Madame long enough to notice someone else?’

There’s silence from the other end, and Serena can practically hear Bernie fidgeting, worrying.

‘What did he say?’ she asks gently.

‘Apparently we glow when we look at each other. And I was pining all afternoon without you. And he- well, despite all our disagreements he thinks it’s brilliant.’

‘He does?’ Serena frowns.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie repeats. ‘I shouldn’t’ve, I mean, I-’

‘Hush, darling. It’s fine, I don’t mind.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. And in fact I,’ she pauses, grins. ‘Well I, uh- I told Ellie. About you. Us.’

‘You did?’ Bernie breathes.

‘She guessed too. Apparently I kept looking at the sort of clothes you wear when you want to impress someone, couldn’t stop talking about you and go all ‘heart eyes emoji’ when I do so, whatever that means.’

‘Oh,’ is all Bernie can manage through her shock. ‘Um- and?’

‘She’d like to meet you properly, next time she visits,’ Serena smiles.

‘She does?’

‘I can get her on the phone if you want to check with her? She is just down the hall.’

Bernie sighs, but Serena can hear a tentative smile. ‘No. I just, I can’t believe it can be this easy.’

‘I know. Oh, I wish I could hold you, Bernie. But I do have a rather special bedtime story to read.’

‘You haven’t already got it?’

‘Never even read it. But if I had, this copy’s special because it’s yours. Thank you, it means a lot that you’d give something so precious to me.’

‘I’d give you anything,’ Bernie says. _Me_ , she thinks. _I’ve already given you me._

‘And the film.’

‘I thought we could watch it tonight, after dinner. But-’

‘Ellie,’ Serena sighs.

‘Yes.’

‘Another time. Promise I won’t watch it without you.’

*          *          *

Serena stays up reading well into the small hours, until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer and forces herself to close the book, to put it safely on her bedside table. When was the last time she was this caught up in a book? So long ago she can’t remember. In the brief moments before she falls asleep she thinks of Carol and Therese, and Bernie – always darling Bernie, the last thing on her mind.

She slips it into her bag in the morning, leaves the house early to drop Ellie at the station and arrives on AAU before Bernie, before she really needs to be there. So although there is, of course, plenty to be getting on with (despite all that Bernie did yesterday), she sits and reads as she sips her coffee. She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t notice the time flying, doesn’t notice the shift change, doesn’t even notice Bernie come in.

‘Enjoying it?’ she asks, a fond smile teasing her lips.

Serena looks up guiltily, inordinately glad not to have been caught by anyone else. She replaces the scrap of wrapping paper she’s using as a bookmark and crosses the office, not even glancing onto the ward before she brushes her lips against Bernie’s, smiling as she does so, as Bernie’s arms slip around her waist.


	8. Chapter 8

It turns into the week from hell.

 _Not an auspicious start to being 51,_ Serena thinks wryly.

There are the usual hospital politics, of course, and Guy bloody Self, and trauma cases and difficult patients coming out of their ears. But she can manage that, _has_ managed that plenty of times before. No, more than that this week is filled with opposing and just-overlapping shifts, and far too little time together, at work or otherwise.

She misses her, that’s what it boils down to. Misses her colleague, her co-lead, her friend, her – whatever they are now. Girlfriend sounds so adolescent, lover so casual, partner so business-like. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Whatever the label, she misses her. Knows Bernie misses her too from the tender gazes, the lingering brush of her fingers when their paths do, briefly, cross.

‘Talk about ships in the night,’ Bernie murmurs.

‘And now she compares me to a boat,’ Serena teases. ‘How charming.’

*

Serena finishes _The Price of Salt_ , forces herself to eke it out over the week, to take in every word when she wants to race through, devour it. Every night she traces her finger over Bernie’s words again, feels herself melt every time she reads ‘love’. Bernie hasn’t actually said it yet, and Serena’s not going to push. Bernie is more actions than words, and she wonders how hard it was for her to even write it. She breathes in the scent of her – coffee and perfume and tobacco – emanating from every page. Finds herself comforted by the thought that Bernie has spent hours holding this book, turning these pages, reading these very words.

 _Like a silly, sentimental F1_ , she scolds herself, but still feels it.

*

Bernie sleeps with Serena’s scarf on the pillow beside her. Serena had draped it around her neck as she was leaving one chilly morning after a busy night shift, taking the opportunity to pull her in for a kiss. (She wanted to stay, protested as Serena bundled her out of the office that she could stay and help. Didn’t admit the real reason: that is was more for her benefit than Serena’s, that she was desperate to spend time with her. That she missed her.) She breathes in her perfume, and _her_ , with every inhale, and if it weren’t for the chill on the other side of the bed she could almost fancy Serena was lying beside her.

 _It’s stupid,_ she thinks, when she wakes to find the scarf clutched tight in her hand, an ache of longing that has nothing to do with sex filling her body. _Ten months ago I’d never met this woman, didn’t even know she existed. How has she lodged herself so firmly, so irrevocably, in my life, my heart?_

*          *          *

Of course, there is the sex as well. Or rather the lack of it, to be more precise. The tension has been ratcheting between them all week as the longing for each other’s presence is superseded by something else, something more raw and needy, and stolen kisses that started out tender and almost chaste become increasingly heated and difficult to stop. They’ve been sniping and snapping at each other and everyone else, and AAU has become a rather uncomfortable place. Everyone is walking on eggshells and avoiding them as much as possible, bracing themselves every time they have to knock on the office door.

‘You’re better off out of it,’ Raf sighs when he visits Fletch. ‘AAU is haemorraging porters, no one wants to be around either of them. If blood hasn’t been spilt by the end of the week – end of the day, even – it’ll be a miracle.’

*

Between operations they snatch a moment in their office and kiss, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, pulling each other closer, closer, closer still. But oh, it’s not enough ( _will it ever be enough, any of it, anything, ever again?_ ), and Bernie finds herself pushed back against the window with a rattle of blinds, Serena’s fingers sneaking beneath the hem of her scrub top to touch bare skin. Bernie drags her impossibly closer until their hips are pressed together, and they both moan at the contact.

And then the inevitable knock on the door, and a growl from Serena.

 _Is Raf really that oblivious?_ Serena wonders. Because she doesn’t know about herself but Bernie definitely looks half-ravished, still leaning against the window, breathless, hair dishevelled, pupils blown, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. She allows herself one final glance ­– _god, she looks delectable_ – before schooling her features and heading back onto the ward.

Trembling, Bernie takes a moment to pull herself together. Runs a hand through her hair, rubs away the smear of Serena’s lipstick. Thinks about the splenectomy she’s about to perform rather than the feel of Serena’s lips, Serena’s body, Serena’s hands on her skin.

She shakes her head sharply, takes a deep breath. Another. One more, for luck. Doesn’t let herself look across the ward to Serena on her way to theatre.

*

Somehow, by some miracle, they both finish on time, at the same time, without a ridiculous amount of paperwork waiting for them. Their eyes catch, and now they’re not filled with lust (although that is still there, simmering) but longing, and something else Bernie still isn’t quite ready to voice but isn’t going to shy away from any more.

‘Come on,’ Bernie says, grabbing Serena’s hand and practically dragging her from the office.

‘If you need anything, page Ric,’ Serena calls to Raf as they pass, giggling, through the ward and out of the doors before anyone – or the red phone – can stop them.

‘Don’t say a word,’ Bernie warns in the lift, still firmly holding onto Serena’s hand. ‘Not until we’re off hospital property.’

*          *          *

It’s fitting, Bernie thinks as she watches Serena peruse the extensive wine list in the Italian they almost made it to before, that they should finally take the next step like this: unplanned and spontaneous, just like their work. Just like everything else about them so far. They’re neither of them dressed up for the occasion but she thinks maybe it’s better this way. Because while she’s certain Serena would look stunning in a dress (and yes she does want to see that, thank you very much) this is the Serena she’s been falling for, the Serena who’s been filling her imagination and haunting her dreams for weeks, months even. This is who they are, every day, who they’ve become together.

There’s none of the awkwardness of a first date, none of the uneasiness or unpleasant tension she half expected. They talk and laugh and flirt just like they’re in theatre, holding cutlery instead of scalpels and slicing lasagna instead of organs. And it feels so easy, so natural, that Bernie wonders what on earth she was ever worried about.

 _Is this what home feels like?_ she thinks. _Is this what other people have, what I’ve been missing my entire life? Is this_ it _? Is_ she _it?_

‘Come home with me,’ Bernie murmurs across the table as, dessert finished, they linger over the end of a bottle of wine, her fingers gently toying with Serena’s.

‘I thought you wanted to take things slowly,’ Serena teases, heart already racing at the thought of it.

‘We’ve been trying to go out for dinner for over a month.’ Her fingers stray, feather light, up Serena’s wrist, and feel her fluttering pulse. She misconstrues it as fear and tries to withdraw, but Serena holds her firmly in place.

‘I’m not scared,’ she smiles. ‘Although you might have to offer a little guidance to keep me from disappointing.’

‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of you disappointing,’ Bernie breathes.

For a moment all she can process is the feel of Serena’s skin against hers, the look in her eyes, everything else fading away.

Then the waiter returns with the bill, and the moment is broken. But their gaze holds, as they make him wait just a little longer than is considered polite.

‘I’d be delighted to,’ Serena says, and Bernie’s smile makes the candle flame between them seem dim.

*          *          *

After taking it in turns in the bathroom they stand toe to toe at the foot of Bernie’s bed, and Serena realises that Bernie – darling, caring, solicitous Bernie – is waiting for her to make the first move. Her eyes flit between eyes and lips, and she slowly leans closer and kisses her, soft and tender.

When their lips part Bernie feels dizzy, faint, almost drunk, and wobbles slightly.

‘Alright?’ Serena asks, concerned, grasping her waist firmly.

‘Oh, you’re very good at that,’ Bernie manages.

Serena grins smugly and kisses her again. This time her teeth graze Bernie’s lips, drawing a moan from her.

‘Take me to bed,’ Serena murmurs.

Bernie smiles, steps back so she can reach between them to slip Serena’s shirt – the flame coloured one, that will now forever be Bernie’s favourite – from her shoulders. Serena follows her lead and soon they’re both down to their underwear ( _not matching,_ Bernie realises, remembering what she put on this morning when she was half asleep and this certainly wasn’t in her mind as a potential end to the day), and all they can do is gaze at each other.

Again it’s Serena who leads, sliding her hands around Bernie’s waist and up her spine, kissing her as she unclasps her bra. She feels Bernie do the same, and they both shiver at the trail of fingers across bare skin. They let go long enough to allow the straps to slip from their arms then pull each other close again, moaning at the press of breasts, the brush of nipples.

‘Take me to bed,’ Serena repeats.

And Bernie complies.

*

Bernie’s body may be firm, toned, lithe, but it still has curves where Serena is used to planes. She takes her time, hands mapping every inch of soft skin and scars, freckles and stretch marks, delighting in every sigh and shiver and gasp. Delighting in Bernie’s hands doing the same, fingers oh so gentle as they almost reverentially trace her curves.

‘I’m really here,’ she whispers at the look of wondering disbelief on Bernie’s face.

‘Yes,’ she smiles, lips trailing down Serena’s neck, lingering above the jumping pulse in her carotid. ‘Oh Serena,’ she murmurs against her skin.

‘God, I want you.’

Bernie raises her head, looks her in the eye, and Serena shivers at the intensity in her gaze, the adoration on her face. ‘I’m all yours,’ she says, with an honesty that makes Serena’s heart ache.

‘And I’m yours,’ she whispers into the scant space between their lips.

For a moment – just a moment – the world stops. There’s nothing but this room, this bed, Bernie. The two of them finally here, skin against skin, eyes locked and hot, fast breaths mingling.

‘You ok?’ Bernie asks, fingers stroking her cheek.

‘Yes,’ Serena smiles, though her heart is racing at the thought of what is about to happen, what they’re about to do.

She sinks into Bernie’s embrace, lips meeting again, skates her hand down Bernie’s side, feeling the ridge of each rib, the dip of waist and flare of hip. Hesitates a moment as her thumb brushes damp curls and Bernie gasps against her mouth.

‘Alright?’ she asks.

Bernie’s chest is heaving now, her eyes even darker than before, darker than Serena thought possible. She doesn’t answer but surges against her, lips and tongue fierce, hips canting in search of more pressure.

Cautiously Serena twists her wrist, fingers edging closer to where she knows Bernie wants them.

‘Please, Serena,’ Bernie almost whines.

And there’s no resisting that tone.

‘Oh,’ she breathes at the feel of Bernie around her fingers, all hot, slick, swollen silkiness. ‘You feel so- oh.’

She half expects Bernie to tease her about being lost for words, but apparently Bernie has also lost the ability to speak.

‘Is- is this ok?’

‘Yes,’ she breathes. ‘Oh yes, oh god Serena.’

And then Bernie’s hand is nudging her own thighs apart, fingers slipping to caress her.

‘ _Oh_.’

And then no more thinking. All her fears vanish in an overload of senses, and she _knows_ what to do because her body tells her, Bernie’s body tells her.

There’s too much trembling and awkwardness, of nerves and excitement and two bodies trying to fit together for the first time, for it to be perfect. Yet at the same time it _is_ perfect, entirely.

And Serena knows she would willingly spend a lifetime perfecting her technique. To draw those soft sighs and guttural moans from Bernie over and over. To feel the heat of her skin, the slickness of her, the tremble and shudder of her muscles. To hear her name fall from Bernie’s lips again and again, amid a litany of curses and pleas. To see her head thrown back, the flush of arousal, the incredible dark glittering of her eyes.

To feel Bernie against her, around her, inside her, _oh_ _inside her_ , reaching and curling and stroking until she forgets everything but Bernie’s name, until even that most precious of words is lost in an incoherent stream of sounds she’s certain she’s never made before.

To tangle together, heavy and drowsy and sated, drifting into sleep with nothing between them, not even darkness or air.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist playing with the other part of 'Life in the Freezer' - so as before if you recognise it, I didn't write it!

Serena wears the flame coloured blouse to work again the next morning, creases and all.

‘You know that’s just as bad as me wearing your shirt?’ Bernie points out.

‘I hardly think it’s the only giveaway,’ Serena smiles, taking her hand.

Bernie frowns.

‘Well, we’ve both arrived in your car for starters. And then there’s the fact that neither of us can stop smiling. Oh, and of course the miraculous disappearance of all the tension that’s been following us around.’

Bernie laughs, tangles her fingers with Serena’s.

‘Does it bother you?’ Serena asks gently. ‘I can always change, I do have a spare shirt in the office.’

‘No,’ Bernie shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to hide this, Serena.’

‘Best prepare to be the subject of the rumour mill, then.’

‘We could- we could really give them something to gossip about?’ Bernie suggests with a smirk.

Serena raises her eyebrow. ‘And what exactly did you have in mind, Ms. Wolfe?’

Bernie swiftly leans across and kisses her, long enough for anyone passing to see, deep enough for it to be obvious what it means.

‘I see,’ Serena smiles. ‘But I think we can do rather better than that, don’t you?’

She doesn’t wait for an answer but drags Bernie closer and kisses her again, an echo of last night, of this morning. A promise of what’s to come tonight, tomorrow, next week, forever.

‘I think half the hospital should’ve seen us by now,’ Bernie murmurs, catching sight of Dom, Isaac and Ric staring at them.

‘How good a story do you think it’s going to be by the time we get onto AAU?’ Serena smirks, reluctantly letting Bernie go and getting out of the car.

They walk in side by side, arms just brushing, and head straight to Pulses for coffee as usual.

‘Ah, Ms. Wolfe.’

‘What can I do for you on this fine morning, Mr. Hanssen?’

‘Someone’s in a good mood.’

‘And why wouldn’t I be?’

His eyes flick between the two of them, an almost smile appearing on his face for the briefest of instants. ‘Might I have a word?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll get the coffee,’ Serena smiles, touching Bernie’s arm lightly as she moves away.

She’s so engrossed in staring at Bernie, remembering last night in all its glory ( _her_ in all her glory, goodness that woman) that the barista has to ask for her order three times before she hears. But she doesn’t even blush, too happy to feel embarrassed. As she waits for the coffee her gaze falls on Bernie again. She’s frowning, glances over at Serena, their eyes catching for a moment before she looks back at Hanssen.

When he’s gone, no doubt to loom over some other poor member of staff innocently minding their own business, Serena joins her, hands over coffee and a cinnamon swirl and leads her towards the lift.

‘I suspect you’re going to need this after last night,’ she teases. ‘What did our esteemed leader want?’

Wordlessly Bernie passes her a glossy brochure, sees the worry flash across her face, eyes snapping up to meet hers. ‘I said no,’ she reassures her, stepping into the lift. ‘He told me to think about it, but I don’t need to.’

Further conversation is precluded by the half dozen other colleagues who join them, but the crowd does at least give Bernie an excuse to move closer (not that she needs one now, she realises with a smile). She presses her arm against Serena’s from shoulder to elbow, hoping the physical contact will convey what she can’t say here, with an audience.

*

Bernie’s plan of assuaging Serena’s worries instantly is scuppered by Raf, who calls her over for a consult.

‘Go on,’ Serena says with a tight smile.

‘I won’t be long,’ she promises, passing her coffee and pastry back to Serena for safe keeping and shedding her coat and bag before joining Raf, with a last glance back at her.

Leaning against her desk, breakfast forgotten, Serena flicks through the brochure. The happiness of last night is fast slipping away, veiled beneath her growing anxiety. She can’t take it all in, the text going fuzzy before her eyes. She blinks, forces it back into focus, but can still only pick out the odd word. It’s enough, though: enough to realise what this is, what it could mean.

And then Bernie’s back, closing the door behind her and shutting out the noise of the ward.

‘Serena?’

‘Well it, uh, it certainly reads like your dream job.’

‘I suppose it does.’

‘Obviously I couldn’t, well I, I wouldn’t try to stand in your way, if it’s what you really- really want.’ Serena can’t help the hitch in her voice. Her eyes flick to Bernie’s for a moment then fix, unseeing, on the page again.

‘Like I said, I told Hanssen I don’t want to go.’

‘You aren’t even going to consider it?’

‘What is there to consider?’ Bernie asks, an uncomfortable gnawing starting in the pit of her stomach.

‘Well this is far better than anything the cash-strapped NHS could ever offer you.’

‘You- you think I should go?’ Bernie breathes in disbelief. She feels the familiar flutter of panic – that Serena has changed her mind, that after last night she’s realised what a monumental mistake she’s made. That this is a handy excuse to end things.

‘I- well, I just- I don’t want you to throw away such a good opportunity because of me.’

_Ah,_ Bernie realises. _I see._ ‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘Obviously I’d, I’d rather you didn’t go,’ she says quietly.

‘Glad to hear it,’ Bernie smiles, her heart rate settling again.

‘But it’s your decision.’

‘Ours,’ Bernie corrects gently.

Finally Serena looks at her, eyes filled with worry, brow knitted. Bernie steps closer, takes the brochure from her unresisting hands and replaces it with her fingers.

‘How can you think I would want to leave you?’

‘Well you do have form,’ Serena says dryly. ‘And you’ve already tried to run away from this.’

‘Ha, ok yes, I deserved that,’ Bernie admits. ‘But everything’s different now.’

‘Is- is it?’

‘Yes,’ she says firmly, fingers caressing Serena’s. ‘I know what I want and because of you I’m brave enough to face it, instead of being my usual cowardly self.’

Serena smiles tightly. ‘I don’t want you to do something you might regret,’ she insists.

‘I could never regret you, Serena,’ Bernie murmurs. She lets go of Serena’s hand, but only so she can slip one of her own around her waist and cup her cheek with the other, fingers stroking her jaw.

Their eyes meet, and Bernie tries to pour everything she’s feeling into this one look. But it’s not enough: she needs more, Serena needs more. So Bernie draws her closer and kisses her tenderly.

‘You’re sure?’ Serena whispers.

‘I’m sure,’ Bernie confirms. ‘Thought you were trying to get shot of me for a minute there.’

‘I’ll have to try harder next time,’ Serena laughs through tears of relief, then leans to kiss her again before resting her head on Bernie’s shoulder.

*          *          *

‘So, you and Bernie,’ Raf says a little cautiously later that morning.

‘Me and Bernie,’ Serena smiles, her eyes fixed on the other woman as she assesses a patient across the ward.

Raf follows her gaze and smiles too, briefly lays a hand on her shoulder.

‘Who’d’ve thought it – of all the people who could turn my life upside down, who’d’ve thought it would be Bernie Wolfe?’

Bernie glances up and for a moment their eyes meet. And the smile, _oh_ the smile from each of them makes Raf feel like he’s intruding on something far more intimate so he looks away, down at the patient notes in his hand.

Bernie returns her attention to her patient, and Serena sighs softly.

‘Raf, I love her,’ she says, quietly but surely. ‘I love her.’

*          *          *

The red phone rings incessantly all day. Coupled with their usual cases sent up from the ED Bernie hardly has the chance to breathe, let alone to go and see Hanssen. Midafternoon she snatches five minutes to wolf down a sandwich and her eyes fall on the Kyiv trauma centre brochure, still lying on her desk where she discarded it earlier. She pulls it towards her and opens it, skimming the text as she finishes her chicken salad and bites into an apple.

It _is_ her perfect job, objectively speaking, and six months ago – hell, even three months ago – she would have been on the first plane to Kyiv without a backwards glance.

Now she doesn’t even feel tempted, and suddenly it worries her. Her career has always come first – to the detriment of her personal life, yes, but she doesn’t really regret it. She might have joked about it to Serena, but she could never have been Maria von Trapp.

And now she’s been offered this wonderful opportunity, that could almost have been created for her, and she can’t even muster the enthusiasm to read the information properly.

_Am I being stupid?_ she thinks, flipping through the pages again. _Is Serena right – am I going to regret not going?_

And then she catches sight of Serena heading towards her, and her heart swells almost painfully. Bernie thinks about everything they’ve done together on AAU, the trauma unit they’ve built from scratch. The difficult cases they’ve dealt with, the patients they’ve lost, the ones they’ve saved against the odds. Their friendship, relationship. Last night. The way her heart skips a beat every time their eyes meet.

The fact that she’s still here at all, that somehow Serena has got under her skin, inside her walls, and she hasn’t run, has chosen to stay.

She slips the brochure into the top drawer of her desk, quietly pushes it closed as Serena enters the room and sits opposite her. Unable to contain all the emotion Serena has awoken in her, she smiles.

_British reserve indeed,_ she scoffs.

She stands, intending to pull Serena into a tight hug and then go and find Hanssen, when she hears the red phone. _Again_.

‘Does it never end?’ she growls.

‘Seems all of Holby is in need of your expertise today, Ms. Wolfe,’ Serena chuckles. ‘Go on, up and at ‘em. Give me a shout if you need me.’

*          *          *

Exhausted, Bernie drags herself from the lift to AAU, slipping into the office before anyone on the ward can spot her and add to her already lengthy day, closing the door and leaning against it with a sigh.

‘There you are,’ Serena smiles, looking up from packing her bag. ‘Where’ve you been, I thought you were finished a while ago?’

‘I was. I went to see Hanssen.’

For a moment Serena forgets how to breathe. ‘Oh yes?’ she manages.

‘He didn’t even try to change my mind. Think he must have sensed he was fighting a losing battle.’

Serena says nothing, just stares at her, hands frozen in mid air.

‘I declined it, Serena. I’m not going anywhere.’

All the breath leaves Serena’s body at once, in a dizzying rush that leaves her leaning heavily against her desk.

‘I have a trauma unit all of my own right here,’ Bernie says, crossing the room. ‘And I have you, Serena.’ She reaches to touch Serena’s shoulder, finds her arms suddenly filled with the other woman and holds her tight.

‘You know, Jason’s not back until Thursday,’ Serena says, drawing back a little to look at her.

‘Dinner?’ Bernie suggests. ‘And maybe we can finally watch _Carol_?’

‘My place? Not sure I can get away with wearing the same outfit three days running.’

‘But I do so like this,’ Bernie smiles, fingering the collar of her shirt.

‘You can enjoy me in it all evening,’ Serena promises.

‘Just it?’ Bernie asks, eyes glinting. ‘Nothing else?’

‘If you’re good,’ Serena teases, stepping out of Bernie’s embrace and pulling on her coat. ‘If you’re _very_ good,’ she adds, with her hand on the door handle, ‘then I might take it off later.’

For a moment Bernie is frozen in place. Then she grabs her coat and bag and races after Serena, slipping an arm around her waist when she catches up with her.

‘You’re going to be the death of me, Ms. Campbell,’ she murmurs into her ear.

‘I certainly hope not,’ Serena laughs, then leans her head on Bernie’s shoulder. ‘That would rather spoil my plans,’ she adds, in an undertone that makes Bernie shiver.

‘Night,’ Raf calls as they pass, as if seeing the two of them leaving together, like this, is a perfectly ordinary, unremarkable, everyday occurrence.

‘Goodnight Raf,’ Serena smiles. She pauses a moment, pulling Bernie to a stop beside her, and looks across AAU, across their ward, their trauma bay. _Ours. Us._

‘Ok?’ Bernie asks, concerned.

‘Yes,’ Serena murmurs, letting out a breath that’s almost a laugh. ‘You’re ok, I’m ok, the world can go round.’

‘Indeed it can,’ Bernie smiles, eyes glowing with love.

Their eyes catch and there, right there in the middle of the ward, Serena leans closer and kisses her.

And, forgotten at the nurses station, Raf smiles to himself. _About bloody time._

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to just be a one-shot, but there may be more!


End file.
